Film fans enduring the typically murky stereoscopy of Dredd 3D in UK cinemas may also experience a sense of deja vu about its plot, which traps beleaguered law enforcement agents in a tower block run by vicious drug-dealing criminals, from which they must attempt to escape with their lives. A strikingly similar scenario underpins Gareth Huw Evans's altogether superior martial-arts thriller The Raid (2011, Momentum, 18), though any comparison between the two ends there. For while Dredd galumphs its heavy booted, bombastic way around the screen, The Raid is altogether lighter on its feet, reminding us of the close comparison between martial arts movies and highly choreographed musicals, both of which have the unmistakeable physicality of acrobatic human interaction at their heart.

Incongruously directed in Indonesia by Welshman Evans, The Raid plays its head-cracking hand in a high-rise Jakarta slum where the local crime lord has taken residence, and whence he is due to be flushed by a top Swat team. Yet once inside the building, the troops find themselves faced by a makeshift private army, all willing to defend their landlord-cum-mob-boss to the death. What follows is a series of bone-crunching fight sequences in which the feet and fists fly as the body count spirals, each knockout punch topping the one before. Tipping his hat towards a variety of pulp sources, from Die Hard to Assault on Precinct 13 via Ong-bak and beyond, Evans ups the ante with deliriously vibrant scenes of destruction, leaving the viewer wincing, gawping and gasping for breath. Extras include a director's commentary, behind-the-scenes featurettes including one on Mike Shonoda and Joe Trapanese's score, and (most bizarrely) Lee Hardcastle's purr-fectly pitched animated remake, Claycat's The Raid.

Having topped both the cinema and DVD charts with Marvel Avengers Assemble, Joss Whedon cements his reputation as genre cinema's go-to guy with The Cabin in the Woods (2011, Lionsgate, 15) on which he takes both screenwriting and production credits. A cine-literate riff on a range of archetypal horrors, this flits between the joyous nastiness of The Evil Dead and the postmodernity of Wes Craven's New Nightmare with aplomb. Ignoring the warnings of a caricatured old-timer, a group of apparently disposable friends head off to the titular torture house, where they are duly haunted and stalked by an off-the-peg assortment of bad things that go bump in the night. Playfully revealing its magic puzzle secrets, this Rubik's cube romp deftly shifts between dreams and nightmares, wearing its Halloween fright-mask with a sardonic smile throughout. While some may balk at the outlandish final act, there's no doubting the infectious affection of the film's descent into the mouth of madness, and Whedon's admirable desire to treat fans as sentient beings rather than brainless dorks. Extras include commentary from Whedon and writer/director Drew Goddard, who previously wrote the screenplay for Cloverfield.

Ken Loach's most sprightly and positive film to date (more so, even, than the terrific Looking for Eric), The Angels' Share (2011, Entertainment One, 15) is an uplifting caper about a former bad lad who discovers that he has a nose for whisky and resolves to turn his newfound skill to the crafty advantage of him and his mates. Working from yet another top-notch screenplay by the versatile Paul Laverty and boasting a brace of engaging and convincing performances, this blends Loach's trademark tough social realism (Robbie's violent past is faced unflinchingly and without special pleading) with a rewarding strand of escapist fantasy. Sometimes riotously funny, often poignantly melancholic, this is another profoundly humanist work from film-makers who seem to find honest joy in the extraordinary lives of "ordinary" people. The result is one of my favourite films of the year so far, a genuinely feelgood gem in which the darkness lurking in the background makes the light of positivity shine all the brighter. For those untroubled by earthy epithets, the 18-rated Blu-ray reinstates eight uses of the F- and C-words previously redubbed to achieve a 15 certificate.

The cross-cultural romantic-comedy All in Good Time (2012, StudioCanal, 12) began life as a stage play by Alfie writer Bill Naughton, which formed the basis of the film The Family Way, a moderate hit boosted by a Paul McCartney soundtrack. Seeing the movie on TV one wet Sunday afternoon, East Is East writer Ayub Khan-Din noticed a striking similarity between its domineering patriarchal figure and his own father, and subsequently penned an Asian version of the film for the stage under the name Rafta, Rafta, which picked up an Olivier award for best new comedy. Now this tale of two newlyweds living under one oppressively parental roof finds its way back to the screen courtesy of Calendar Girls helmsman Nigel Cole, who recently scored an artistic (if not financial) triumph with the wonderful Made in Dagenham. As usual, Cole proves himself adept at addressing potentially preachy social issues in a manner which is both entertaining and unobtrusive. There are some fine comic turns here, not least from Meera Syal and Harish Patel as the omnipresent mum and dad, and some charming backstory detail about working in a "proper" cinema. It's also admirably even-handed in its attitude to both sex and the sexes, though occasionally things stray a touch too far into Carry On territory with Karma Sutras, bouncing bedsprings and the like. No masterpiece, then, but warmly likable nonetheless.

While there have been plenty of movies documenting the heroism of the resistance in Nazi-occupied France, Ismael Ferroukhi's Free Men (2011, Artificial Eye, 12) takes a new tack. Rising star Tahar Rahim plays a young Algerian black-marketeer who agrees to spy on a Paris mosque in return for his freedom, and discovers personal and political enlightenment en route. Although the storytelling is fairly mundane, there are committed performances from Rahim and Michael Lonsdale, both of whom continue to command the camera's attention. There's also something pertinently surprising about a story which centres on Muslims defending Jews from their oppressors, and risking their own freedom in the process. Compare this eye-opening narrative with the comedic cliches of The Dictator (2011, Paramount, 15) whose central Arab-despot gag has been decried by some as racist (the BBFC duly notes that "the film contains racial stereotyping and racist stereotyping but does not as a whole condone such language or behaviour") but suffers more from being drearily unfunny. Not only are all the best jokes in the trailer, most of them are better in the trailer; as always, Sacha Baron Cohen works best in short bursts, a problem hardly alleviated by the inclusion of an additional 15 minutes in the now obligatory extended cut.